Stars at their feet
by bangwolf
Summary: "Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea." A story where Luna grows up with a broken heart but she learns to love with it so it doesn't seem broken at all.


When Luna was seven, she saw Pandora's box open. As she saw her mother fall to the ground, her lips parted, her eyes staring at nothing, she felt a light go out. Enveloped in silvery white mist and wispy grey smoke, her mother lay, crumpled on the floor, her silvery hair fanned out behind her as Luna stared. Pandora was once filled with curiosity, her mind whirring with strange notions and dreams of new inventions. Her desk was filled with curious potions which bubbled mysteriously, glistening reflections dancing on the ceiling. She lay dead, completely still. A cold shell of the witch she once was. Luna stood frozen in a daze, her eyes fixed on the peaceful form of her mother, splayed out on the wooden floor of her office. It was as though night had suddenly struck, a navy blanket encompassing her. Except there were no stars or moon to light the sky. To Luna, it looked as though Pandora had simply fallen asleep, a sweet smile plastered on her face.

At eleven years old, she sat alone on the Hogwarts Express. Stacks of yellow-paged worn books sat next to her, elaborate silver embellishing and curly scripts reading out the names "A Children's Anthology of Monsters" and "Sub-Aquatic Botanical Mysteries". Her father had filled her with tales of of fascinating books and staircases which wound onwards and changed with the wind. He told her about a fascinating forest filled with centaurs and unicorns where fairies and pixies danced by the moonlight. His stories fascinated her, and as she listened, her eyes grew as big as saucers, filled with wonder. But the thing that Luna most longed for was the blue and gold tower, filled with books and knowledge, lit by a warm fire. In her mind's eye, it was filled with laughter and lively discussion, her heart swelled when she imagined it. The thought of friends filled her with a warm glow.

As the gnarled hat sat on top of her head, its brow furrowed in concentration. After a few moments, its surly expression immediately softened.

"I see wit, great determination, talent.. But Ravenclaw is not all it once was, child." The hat's booming voice echoed across the hall and the houses sat rapt, listening to the curious conversation unfolding. "Hufflepuff will give you all you need, loyalty.. friendship, understanding… kindness. Merlin knows you need kindness." It sighed.

"No," She whispered, defiantly and chose sapphires over diamonds. "Ravenclaw." Wispy white with flaxen, long, blonde hair, the girl who looked so fragile refused to waver. Small against the stool she sat in, her determination radiated in waves and her expression showed so much courage that Godric Gryffindor himself would have looked on with pride.

As she sat through the other first year's sortings, she noticed that the hat seemed to be so sure of the contents of the others heads. "Weasley, Ginevra" walked up to the chair in a flash of fiery red hair, and no sooner than when the Hat touched her head, it cried, "Gryffindor!" The sea of red and gold scarves erupted in cheers as she took her place. "Smith, Zacharias" was immediately sorted into Hufflepuff, and he walked, haughty and proud, to his table as they clapped loudly. Luna sat thoughtful in her seat as she wistfully stared off into the distance, listening to the loud cheers and wondering why it felt like something was missing.

She had taken Ravenclaw because it was softer than Gryffindor's swords and armour, because a quiet courage came in knowledge. Because bravery didn't always have to be loud. She had taken it because in Slytherin's dungeon hid darkness and shadows, cool and unforgiving. Whereas she craved the warmth of friendship which illuminated Ravenclaw tower. She had taken it because Hufflepuff were hard workers and fiercely loyal and she craved the gentle, soft nature of Ravenclaw.

In the dead of night, she lay in her bed in Ravenclaw tower and gazed at the ceiling. A perfect model of the night sky was etched above her, with spidery lines connecting constellations and shooting stars diving before her. Her mother had been so bright and loving, giving light to everything around her. Maybe she lived in the sky now, a cosmic beacon for lost people. Her lids became heavy as she trailed off into thoughts about her father and their old, lonely little house in the prairies.


End file.
